


FlCl: Origins

by Theblakwizzard



Category: FLCL
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theblakwizzard/pseuds/Theblakwizzard
Summary: ‘Nothing ever happens around here,’ two girls thought at the same time, light years apart from each other, ‘everything is always the same.’Not much (if anything) was explained in the short, yet amazing, show Fooly Cooly. I know there are new seasons coming out soon that should hopefully shed some more light on just what the hell was going on to make the events in the first season come to pass, but just in case I thought I'd explore my own thoughts on the matter.This is my first work ever, I hope you enjoy it!





	FlCl: Origins

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Nothing ever happens around here,’ two girls thought at the same time, light years apart from each other, ‘everything is always the same.’
> 
> Not much (if anything) was explained in the short, yet amazing, show Fooly Cooly. I know there are new seasons coming out soon that should hopefully shed some more light on just what the hell was going on to make the events in the first season come to pass, but just in case I thought I'd explore my own thoughts on the matter.
> 
> This is my first work ever, I hope you enjoy it!

“Mamimi!” her mother hollered. “Are you home from school yet? There's chores to be done girl!”

Mamimi stayed in her hiding place underneath the house, waiting for her mother to give up on trying to find her and get back to watching her shows like she always did.

She wasn't afraid of her mother, all she did was yell at Mamimi for being a “lazy delinquent”. Her father on the other hand…

“Fine,” her mother said aloud to no one she could see, “just wait til your dad comes home then,” she finished, as if reading her mind.

Mamimi heard the footsteps above her lead to the living room followed by a soft thud as a body landed heavily onto the couch. As the television came to life she went back to her creation. 

In the darkness of the crawlspace she occupied, the only light coming from the cracks in the floorboards above her, she studied the supplies she had gathered. Dry grass from outside, bits of wood gathered from the peeling and splintered structure of the house, and one of her mother's old shoes she had found in the storage that had accumulated in the crawlspace over the years, were in a pile in front of her. In her hand she held a book of matches her father had gotten at some bar and she had pilfered from the kitchen drawer a week ago.

Holding the matches up to her eyes she studied the small strips of cardboard-like paper, each one with a little red tip at its head.

In a way, Mamimi herself resembled a match. She was small and skinny, even for a ten year old, and had a head of short red hair that reached just above her eyebrows. Her mother always complained about her hair, as no one in either of her parents families had that color.

Mamimi didn't know why her mother didn't like her hair, in fact it was one of the only things she liked about herself, providing a tiny bit of color in her dull, listless life.

Pinching one of the matches in between her index finger and thumb she ripped it from the book and continued to gaze at it.

Something so small, so seemingly insignificant, and yet so powerful resting between her fingers gave her shivers.

Flipping the match book closed, she placed the tip of the match along rough strip on the outside of the book. With bated breath she stuck the match against the strip and watched as it came to life with a sudden light and heat. She held the lit match before her and slowly released her breath.

After a second she held the match to the small pile in front of her, lighting the dry grass first as she'd learned to do in order to get the fire going. Once the match became too hot to hold she flicked it into the small blaze she had created. Slowly at first, as the grass burned, the wood caught and a small amount of flame licked at the shoe in the center of the pile. It was one of her mother's heels from who knows when. Mamimi had never seen her wear it before in any case.

As the small amount of fabric on the shoe started to react to the flames, Mamimi just sat there and stared with a blank face. The brightness of the flames filled her eyes to the brim, filling her with a sense of… not peace exactly. More like quiet. Her thoughts evaporated and rose away like smoke from her consciousness and she breathed evenly, letting her body go completely still.

As the materials of her creation turned black and smoldered, letting off tongues of flame, Mamimi no longer felt anything. She didn't care about school, or her parents, or being bullied, or never having anyone to talk to. She just sat there, underneath her house in the warming, hazy darkness and watched as the flames consumed everything they touched.

 

~

 

Endless black void. Boring nothingness that never changed, just the same thing day in, and day out. 

This is what went through Haruko’s mind as she gazed out into the infinite dimensions of space. You’d think being a recently promoted First Class Space Patrol Officer would involve chasing space pirates around the galaxy, or discovering new species of lifeforms on wonderful planets full of life and danger. But no. Mostly it consisted of staring out a window on her spaceship at the constant emptiness of the cosmos.

Haruko sighed, fingers twitching on her controls. She had trained for years to be where she was, the youngest person to graduate from the Space Patrol Academy. Years spent studying and honing her body and mind into tools of interplanetary law and order. 

She sighed again. Refocusing her eyes from the dullness of outer space, she looked at her reflection on the inside of the viewport.

A young woman stared back with bright green eyes encompassed by long, full eyelashes. Feline features showed on her pale face, with round cheeks sloping down to a pointed chin, above all which lay locks of light brown hair.

Those training with her at the academy made fun of how young Haruko looked, but that laughter soon died when she kicked their butts a few times.

Breaking her gaze from her reflection she looked down at herself and saw a lithe figure clothed in tight fitting uniform of black and grey. Because of the flatness of her body one could easily mistake her for a boy. It was when one looked into her eyes, those startlingly green eyes that one could see her femininity.

A chime from her communicator broke her thoughts. Reaching forward she flipped the channel open.

“Haruhara here, over,” she said into the receiver.

“Roger Haruhara. What is your status? Over,” came the bored sounding disembodied voice from her consol.

“All clear in sector K Prulu, over,” she replied, equally bored.

“Roger that Haruhara, sending coordinates for next sweep. Standby, over.” Another chime sounded as her ship picked up the coordinates of her next assignment.

Looking at her consol to see that the coordinates were successfully uncoded by her ship she responded, “transmission received command, heading there now, over.”

The channel closed without a reply while she prepared her ship for the jump to her new destination.

Just before she pushed the command that would take her there, she once more looked at her reflection, and sighed.


End file.
